The Truth

When I was sixteen, I was at a party.  My friend, Jolene, was having her birthday.  Everyone was there, including my best friend.  His name was Daniel.  I kinda had a crush on him and I think he kinda had a  crush on me, but it wasn't anything serious.  It wasn't supposed to be anything serious.

We were hanging out and no one else was around, and I think someone spiked the punch because I didn't feel very well and D was drinking anyway and then he...started touching me.  I didn't want it and I told him but he kept going and I was scared but suddenly I was too off-balance and woozy to fight and I kept telling him to stop but he didn't stop he never stopped even though I spent the whole time begging him not too.

Afterwards I told my family what he did and he got arrested and put on trial but it was just a juvenile court and his dad was pretty well off.  He said that I begged for it the entire time.  He said it wasn't rape because I kept asking for it and he pretended to look so hurt by what I was saying and no one believed me except Faith.  Everyone at school called me a tease and a whore and a slut and Faith almost killed D, beat him so hard he needed to go to the hospital.  D's dad had to get a restraining order and he moved away and I never saw him again.

It just hurt so much he was my best friend and he hurt me and now everyone's reminding me and I just want to forget why won't the shadows let me forget?  Why did they hurt my brother and kill my mom and dad to make me remember?

Poise and Rationality

I'm being sent off tomorrow.

Faith's in here, in my room, trying to make sure I don't hurt myself.  I tried to, yesterday.  He's not even letting my Boyfriend and my Roommate in.  I wish he wasn't letting himself in, too.  I don't think he's safe, here.  I don't think they like that he's here.

They won't stop.  Even with my brother here they won't stop.  But he doesn't hear them.  No one hears them.  Except me.  And they keep talking.  Whispering at me.  Taunting me.

I feel sick.  The grey on my arms is growing and I don't know why.  I don't think I bruised them.  I don't remember bruising them.

But I'm hearing things, so I guess I'm not the best judge.

They still want me to rise.  I don't want to.  I don't want to think about it.

I guess they'll make it so I won't.  They'll make it so I don't have to remember.

I'm not sure what I'll do if they don't.

Eventuality

My parents have Faith is here keeping an eye on me.  Making sure I don't do anything rash.

It was just one sleeping pill.  I wasn't trying to kill myself.  I just didn't want any dreams.  I don't want to be awake, either.

They keep happening.  I dream I wake up and the shadows are talking to me.  They're telling me that revenge will solve all my problems.  They're telling me all I have to do is sever the source of my troubles and they'll all just  fade away.

That I have to rise.  Rise as Boudica.

But they're not just dreams anymore.  I catch whispers wherever I go.  At some point, the background noise gets dimmer and the shadows start whispering and they keep saying the same things.  I think I'm coming apart.

I don't know what to do.  I can't stop the voices.  I try to cover my ears but then I hear it in the sound of my ears being covered.

And when I do sleep, when I wake up...there are bruises on my arms.  Grey spots all over them.  What am I doing to myself?

Faith won't let me leave.  Not for any reason.  I guess it's for my own good.

I don't know what I'm going to do.  Am I really hearing voices?  Am I really going crazy?

Rain Drops Keep Falling On My Head

I don't know where to start.

One of my professors called me a whore on Friday.  I raised my hand, answered the question and he said, "I guess a whore's good for more than one thing sometimes."

The whole class laughed at me.  They just laughed and laughed and I ran out of the lecture hall.

And no one believes me.  Not even my therapist.  Not even my boyfriend.  They think I'm hearing things.  I'm starting to wonder if they've ever believed me.  If anyone's ever believed me.

I've just been crying all weekend.  My Roommate keeps trying to talk to me but I don't want to talk to her.

It's not fair.  I know saying that sounds like something a brat would say, but it's true.  I just want a break.  It's like the universe or my brain or something doesn't want me to forget and just move on and be happy.

I want to be happy.  I miss being happy.  My therapist just tells me I need to try.  She says that I like being miserable, that it's so comfortable I just assume the worst out of everything rather than try to make my life easier, but it's not true.  It's not, I hate this, I hate it so much but no one will let me be happy, just be happy, just once.

I just want to be happy.  It's not too much to ask.  Just let me go on.  Just let me let go.  Please.  It was so much better when I didn't remember.

I know I never forgot, but I stopped thinking about it, and that's the same, right?  I can be happy when I'm not thinking about it.  But no one lets me stop thinking about it anymore and I can't take it.

I just can't take it.

I had a dream the other night.  I guess I've kept having it, every week or so.  I'm lying in bed and the streetlights are coming in and I can see the shadows on my wall, and then every sound in my room, every sound goes quiet, and the shadows start to whisper to me.

The tell me, "Arise, Boudica!"


It's what I named my blog after.  I just thought it sounded cool but maybe I should do what my subconscious is telling me.  Maybe  I should stop letting myself be wronged.

Maybe I should prove that these people are hurting me.

Maybe I should start hurting them back.